


We All Done Fucked Up

by The_Gay_Feminist



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Except Tony, F/F, F/M, Like, M/M, also peggy is gay so, and rhodey, but not all of them, but not really, hes still pretty old, kind of college au, max 35, there are still avengers aspects, they're youngins first of all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:16:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Gay_Feminist/pseuds/The_Gay_Feminist
Summary: I don't even know what i was originally going to do with this but its gonna go somewhere probably very smutty and it'll be fine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi um I have no idea where this is going and the first few chapters will be relatively short, so sorry about that, I've just got to get through all the characters and get into the storyline before the chapters will get more than maybe a couple thousand words.

Sam sat by himself at the bar, currently downing his eighth shot of rainbow sherbert vodka, his eyes repeatedly falling on a girl seated several seats down from him. She has short, wavy brown hair and a striking red dress, her hand delicately wrapped around the stem of a margarita glass she was sipping from. He let out a dramatic sigh, which, looking back on it he would blame on the booze, when the bartender jolted him out of his stupefied staring by tapping his empty shot glass on the table a few times to get his attention.  
“You look like you could use another shot, tough guy,” said the redhead, flipping her curled locks over her shoulder as she grabbed a half empty bottle of Pinnacle, “Who’s the girl?”  
“I don’t know yet but I hope to find out,”slurred a very drunk Sam, “she’s very pretty.”  
“I’d have to agree with you on that, pal; I’d hit that.” agreed the bartender, nodding her head in approval as she passed the lightweight yet another shot of vodka.  
He downed it immediately before uncertainly standing and heading over to the girl, his gait wobbly and his body reeking of rainbow sherbert.  
“Hi there, I just couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are, and I had to come tell you,” slurred the drunk, leaning on the bar between the girl and her company.  
“I’m not interested in a lowlife drunk,” delivered the woman in a thick accent, looking down her nose at Sam before pushing him out of the way of her conversation.  
“Honey, I could make you so happy tonight,” Sam muttered, trying one last move on the woman before he would leave. This comment, however, pushed her over the edge and she stood up from the stool, her floor length skirt swishing around her ankles. She quickly floored the tipsy drunk before rushing from the bar, leaving her company behind at the scene.  
“I am sorry about that, my friend,” chuckled the man in a similar accent to the woman. He reached out one hand to help hoist Sam back to his feet, “She does not take kindly to drunk advances.”   
Sam brushed himself off before looking up at his rescuer, his jaw dropping in awe once he took in the specimen. His saviors wore an exotic looking suit, the bright colors contrasting with his dark skin. His hair was short and coiled, his eyes so brown they were almost black. Sam couldn’t help himself. “Holy shit you have a nice face bro,” he found himself muttering before he could stop himself.   
The man laughed heartily, a grin stuck on his face, “Why thank you, my name is T’Challa, what is yours?”, he asked, wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist to help him away from the bar as he already noted how hammered Sam was.  
“Th’name’Sam” he slurred, his feet dragging as the exited the building together, “Sam Wilson, nice’oo meetcha.” He tried to remove his arm from T’Challa’s shoulder to shake hands but ended up stumbling into a wall and falling over, bringing a trash can with him. T’Challa left him there for a moment as he want back to take care of the man’s tab, rushing back to help him into his car.  
“Shuri, figure out who Sam Wilson is and send him back to where he lives. I cannot deal with this right now, I have stuff to do,” T’Challa muttered into his phone, pressing send on the text and closing the door on the man. He turned to follow after Okoye, hopefully he could help her regain her composure before she killed someone for driving too close to her while she crossed a street. He glanced back at his car just in time to see Sam Wilson sticking his torso out of the sun roof to watch him leave.  
“Hot damn, you have a fine ass,” shouted Sam before whistling, “Praise jesus I think I’m in love with this hot piece of foreign man.” he shouted into the sky. T’Challa turned back around and began walking faster, his face becoming hot with embarrassment.


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy's eyes fluttered open, sunlight beaming through cracks in the blinds meeting her eyes causing her a burst of pain. She squinted and put her hand in front of her eyes before taking in her surroundings. She was in a somewhat messy bedroom, the floor mostly clear but the shelves and bedside table were covered in clutter. The bed she was sitting in was way too soft, the backs of her knees uncomfortably damp with sweat under the comforter. Then she noticed a mess of bright red hair piled in the pillow next to her; the girl she was sharing the bed with had kicked off the comforter that was on both of them, revealing her back to the ceiling, as well as her right leg and left calf. Peggy realized that the girl was not wearing any clothes, realizing that Peggy herself wasn't wearing any almost immediately afterwards. She scanned the room for a shirt, spotting one across the room laying over the arm of a chair and cautiously standing as to not wake the sleeping girl. She tip-toed over to the chair, reaching down for the shirt when she heard a soft whistle from behind her. She rapidly pulled the shirt over her head and reached for something- anything, to cover her bottom with.The redhead was now sitting on the bed, also very naked, her legs hanging from the side of the bed and her feet hovering over the wooden floor, hesitant to put them down on the ground.  
Peggy quickly pulled on a pair of sweats that were lying near her foot, nervously making eye contact with the calm and collected girl, "Uh, how offended would you be if I asked you your name?" stuttered Peggy.  
"Not at all offended, I don't remember yours either. I'm Natasha. Romanoff." The redhead responded with a controlled air to her.  
"That's a uh, very pretty name. I like it. I'm, um Peggy."  
"Peggy? Short for Margret, right? How much do you hate when people call you, say, Maggie? Or Meg?"  
Peggy glared at the girl, pulling her wavy brown hair into a bun on the back of her head, "I might kill you if you do it again."  
"As much as I'd like to see you try, I get the point. No more M names. Only Peggy. how about Peg, is Peg okay?"  
"Yeah, Peg is fine."  
Natasha stood, heading over to Peg, her gait not dissimilar to that of a big cat stalking prey. Her perfectly manicured hands rested on Peggy's waist, "Now, why did you put all those clothes on? You're so beautiful, I just wanna look at you." flirted Natasha, tugging at the bottom of the t-shirt before running her hands up Peggy's sides. Her hands quite calloused, something Peggy hadn't noticed until now. She reached up, halting Natasha's hands and pulling them back out of her shirt to look at them, run her fingers over the rough skin on her palms.  
"What are these from?" queried Peggy, taking one of Nat's hands into both of hers and running her fingertips up each of the fingers.  
"I used to be a ballerina, our hands were all calloused from the barre work we had to do." explained Nat, pulling her hand back from Peggy's grasp,"Do you wanna stay here and watch movies with me today?" Nat picked up a nightgown off of the end of the bed and threw it on, heading out through her bedroom door as if Peggy had already answered.  
"Yeah, sure." replied Peggy, following the girl through her house, "How do you eat your popcorn? Because cheese is a major deal breaker for me."  
"I hate cheesy popcorn."  
"Good." Peggy sat on the couch next to Nat as she watched her channel surf, a small heat blooming into existence in her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky slammed his metal fist down on the blaring alarm clock, denting the expensive titanium reinforced clock slightly. Him crushing alarm clocks into oblivion was a common occurrence that resulted in this protective measure. His sudden movement jolted awake the man that was resting on his chest, who if not violently shaken awake would sleep through a bombing of his own house. It's happened. Steve sat straight up, the small beds in the dorm not doing him justice as one buttcheek was on the bed and one was off, causing him to slip down the side of the bed, landing with a heavy thump, his feet still next to Bucky on the bed.  
"He is beauty, he is grace," mumbled Bucky, jokingly.  
"Oh be quiet," groaned Steve, running his hands down his tired face.  
"He is Miss United States," Buck finished, a quiet giggle escaping before he let his head fall back onto his pillow, "Hey uh, Steve, what time did you say your class was this morning?" His voice was instantly much clearer and more urgent.  
"Mm," Steve scrunched his face up in thought, "9:30, why what time is it?"  
"9:17, you better get moving."  
"Oh shit!" exclaimed Steve, ripping his feet off the bed and standing quickly, hitting his head on the corner of the bedside table as he did so, "I'm supposed to be all the way across campus!"  
"I can't believe you kissed me with that trashy mouth," he joked, Steve shooting a well earned glare his direction, "It's okay, I'll help you get your stuff together so you can leave, I don't have to be to my class until 10 and it's like across the street," he volunteered his help as Steve raced around the room in a panic.  
"Uh I need to change, can you get my laptop and bag, my materials should be in the medium pocket but could you double check?" His voice grew slightly quieter as he closed the bathroom door behind him, the sink beginning to run as more thing clattered around in there.  
"I hope you plan on helping me clean my place before we go get lunch," teased Bucky through the door as he shuffled through Steve's bag, searching for his pencils, brushes, and several different types of paper, "All your stuff is here, but didn't you say you needed a portfolio or something today for an interview or something?"  
"Um yes. But the gallery thing isn't until later this afternoon, so I'm going to leave my portfolio here until after my afternoon classes." He called through the door, Bucky zipping up the bag on his knee as the door opened to the bathroom. He handed Steve his bag, backing away to let the frantic man escape the small room, following him to the door. Buck grabbed Steve's wrist, quickly pulling him in for a short kiss goodbye, and Steve turned to head on his way again. Buck backed away, beginning to close the door when Steve's hand snuck back in, forcing the door back open. He slammed his lips against Bucky's gently setting his bag on the desk as he slowly walked Buck against the wall. Steve's fingers wrapped in Bucky's long locks, goosebumps popping up along his arms as Bucky brushed his cold metal hand on his waist, the metal shocking his bare skin. Bucky lifted his leg up, pushing the door shut with his toes before wrapping his leg around Steve's waist, pulling his body closer to the taller man.  
"Art is my best subject, how many of the lectures do you think I can miss before my performance begins to suffer?" Steve mutters, pulling his lips away to look at Bucky.  
"As many as you want, you're an artistic genius," Bucky replied, his eyes flickering down to Steve's lips. Steve noticed the action, his eyes doing the same as he shoved Bucky against the wall harder, his lips soon following. Buck wrapped his other leg around his waist, and Steve picked up the man, gently lowering him onto the bed they just got up from a mere 6 minutes ago.


End file.
